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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28156617">The Basement</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryik_the_writer/pseuds/ryik_the_writer'>ryik_the_writer</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Laughter in the Walls [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Once Upon a Time (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, laughter in the walls</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 17:47:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,777</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28156617</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryik_the_writer/pseuds/ryik_the_writer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Continuation of "Laughter in the Walls"</p><p>Belle explores the basement of the Salmon mansion</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Laughter in the Walls [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/936630</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Basement</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was sometimes easy for Belle to forget that her new home was haunted.</p><p>There were days when Rumplestiltskin—the self-proclaimed “residential haunter” of the salmon-colored mansion—would be jumping off the walls, moving things, bringing chaos and excitement into Belle and her son’s life.</p><p>Then there were days like today when he’d go oddly quiet. Belle had woken up that morning to no Rumplestiltskin. None at breakfast, none when she saw Gideon off, and none now with her having more free time than she’d had in weeks.</p><p>Though she cared for Rumple very much, she took immediate advantage of his absence.</p><p>She went through the budget for the town library that was set to open in another week, unpacked her last box in the living room, and got the kitchen cleaned…all in less than thirty minutes.</p><p>She leaned back on her couch, listening to the clock hanging over the fireplace.</p><p>“Wow,” she muttered aloud. After being a mother for nearly 18 years and living in a haunted house, she’d grown completely unaccustomed to quiet time.</p><p>“Um…” she hesitated, double guessing when she’d ever get a moment like this again, a moment just to sit back and breath.</p><p>But that novelty quickly wore off.</p><p>“Rumple?” she called out, preparing for him to suddenly appear behind her or jump onto her coffee table…something!</p><p>But Rumplestiltskin did not appear or attempt to scare her.</p><p>Belle hummed, worrying her lip. Where was he?</p><p>With a determined hum, she began her search, going up the bedrooms and even checking the closets, on the way down she did the same until finally she stepped out into the garden.</p><p>Belle addressed the area, scrunching her nose at the dead vines on the fence. She hadn’t touched it since she moved in being that it was far too cold to begin cleaning up, and she was certain that Rumple would give her grief when she began.</p><p>She walked around the small space, mulling over her ghostly housemate’s antics.</p><p>The last few weeks had certainly been an adventure, truly the most interesting few weeks of both her and Gideon’s life so far.</p><p>Knowing Rumple’s life before his unfortunate death had softened her to him, and him to them in return it would seem.</p><p>Sure he still played his little tricks but he was finally allowing them to settle in and get comfortable.</p><p>But Belle had also noticed that he seemed to keep them at arm’s length as well.</p><p>He never officially joined them for meals, and the first time Belle asked him he looked shocked enough to die all over again. Instead he’d levitate peas or shuffle around silverware, hiding his true feelings behind harmless chaos.</p><p>She moved a stone with the toe of her shoe, mulling over where her residential haunter could be.</p><p>Her eyes landed on the dusty basement windows—the one room in the house she hadn’t touched yet.</p><p>Snapping her fingers, she ran back inside to find the key Mary Margaret Nolan had given her the day she moved in. It fit in the lock perfectly but Belle grunted a bit to turn it.</p><p>She had to force her weight onto the door to get the thing open and nearly tumbled down the stairs when it finally swung open.</p><p>She spat when she walked into a cobweb, waiving away dust and the smell of age as she carefully made her way down the skeptical wooden steps.</p><p>“Rumple?” Belle called down, her voice echoing off the gritty walls as she felt for a light.</p><p>She found the end of the steps—thankfully without falling down them—and squinted into the dark, just able to make out a few objects.</p><p>She stepped around carefully, hands reaching out to graze along what felt like furniture until blessedly she felt the coolness of a glass lamp shade. She eagerly groped the lamp until she felt pull string, and with a tough the room was illuminated in a gentle but useful light.</p><p>She blinked, letting her eyes adjust, and after a moment she gasped at the objects before her.</p><p>It was like she was in a dusty museum full of treasures. Furniture and lamps, and so much more that Belle just could not see from the lack of light.</p><p>She looked around and spotted the windows. They were caked in a thick layer of dust and dirt, the thinnest slithers of light struggling to escape.</p><p>Belle sidestepped a few crates and removed her cardigan, using a table against the wall to lift herself up so that she could clean the glass.</p><p>After a great deal of effort, the glass was clean enough so that she could see better. As she eased herself off the table, she felt paper crumple under her palms. She looked down and to her delight, the table she was on was overflowing with an old tea set and…books!</p><p>She brushed off her hands, eagerly examining the piles before her. Dickens, Hugo and even an older copy of Shakespeare poems! Some were unbound, as if someone were trying to prepare them?</p><p>One book towards the end seemed to be in the roughest state of all. It’s spine a strip of cloth and Belle couldn’t even make out the title on the overly worn cover, though she noticed that the spine was held together by some new thread.</p><p>She carefully picked the book up to look at the pages, hoping to gain some sort of insight of what the book was about when a cold presence suddenly washed over her.</p><p>“Careful dearie!”</p><p>Belle jumped back, knocking into the table behind her and causing the porcelain on it to clatter. She visibly paled when she heard one of the pieces hit the dusty floor.</p><p>Rumplestiltskin stepped to her side, taking the crumbling book from her hands much more gently than she thought he would.</p><p>“You’re holding one the first copies of <em>La Belle et la Bête</em>!”Rumplestiltskin growled. “It took me months just to stitch the pages back together.”</p><p>“I’m…I’m sorry,” Belle gasped, overcoming her shock quickly to address the damage she did to the porcelain tea set.</p><p>A lump formed in the throat when she found the cup she caused to fall on the ground, a very small but noticeable chip in its rim.</p><p>“I’m so sorry,” Belle said, cursing her unyielding curiosity. “I chipped it…”</p><p>She tensed when Rumple squatted down to her level, addressing the cup in her hands with a blank expression.</p><p>“You…you can hardly see it.” She offered with a strained smile.</p><p>Rumplestiltskin met her eyes and caught the fresh terror there. Though it pleased him he could make her feel such fear despite their month-long acquaintance, it did concern him just a bit. Did she really think he’d rage over a cheap tea set? Sure, it was bothersome that she stumbled into his sanctuary…but it wasn’t all his now anymore…</p><p>“It’s just a cup,” he assured, taking the thing out of her hands and avoiding how he almost…almost…felt the heat from her skin. “Worth nothing really. I don’t even have the full set any more.”</p><p>Belle visibly sagged in relief, picking herself up as Rumplestiltskin placed the cup on the table.</p><p>“What is all this?”</p><p>Rumplestiltskin turned to acknowledge the relics of his past, years of toil gathering dust or rotting right in front of his eyes.</p><p>“What’s left of my shop.” He answered, leaving her side to flick a cobweb from an old spinning wheel.</p><p>“Shop?” Belle gasped. “You had a shop here?”</p><p>“No,” he laughed wetly. “In town. They moved all this here after I…”</p><p>Belle worried her lip, know his next words.</p><p>“You…fixed things?” she said, rushing to change the subject.</p><p>“Fixed, appraised, some might even stole,” he giggled, though the humor wasn’t in his voice. “It was an antique shop with a pawning theme. When people couldn’t pay back what they borrowed for their items, I sold them. Some would call that theft.”</p><p>Belle shrugged, not wanting to comment on how a bit unfair that seemed.</p><p>“Is that why you came down here?” she inquired. “To remember?”</p><p>Rumplestiltskin blinked, a flash of who he used to be running before his yes.</p><p>Mr. Gold, the pawnbroker who owned everything in Storybrooke from the properties to everyone’s first born. The monster. The friendless fiend who’d watch parties and get-togethers at the diner from his car. Who had all the wealth in the world but no one to share it with.</p><p>Someone his own flesh and blood tried to forget.</p><p>“Rumple?”</p><p>He glanced back at her, those soulful blue eyes easing away his less savory thought.</p><p>“Not much to remember,” he sighed, walking past her.</p><p>Belle’s mouth went dry as she tried to find the right words to comfort him, however it was painfully obvious that their experiences with loneliness were painfully diverse.</p><p>The loneliest time in her life was during her pregnancy with Gideon and right after he was born. Will’s paternal instincts just wouldn’t turn on and her parents, thought accepting of her new role, were silently disappointed.</p><p>By the time Will left for good and Belle began online classes and a part-time job to support her new baby, she’d been able to accept her new role as a teenage mother.</p><p>And she’d never truly been alone, but judging by Rumple’s demeanor and the Nolan’s insight on his previously life, he had been.</p><p>She looked around at the objects that had filled his life, that brought him company when people could not.</p><p>She smiled fondly at the books, wondering how many hours he spent caring for them, if the words from the words managed to tame some of his time.</p><p>Her eyes scanned to the spinning wheel, wondering what he created from the antique.</p><p> “What do you think about bringing this upstairs?”</p><p>He stared at the old spinning wheel, disgusted.</p><p>
  <em>“Why?”</em>
</p><p>“It’s beautiful. It’d look great in my library,” She shrugged. “Plus, it was yours, and … this is your home too.</p><p>Rumplestiltskin scoffed, his gaze softening when his back was to her. “Do what you wish.”</p><p>Belle smiled, noticing the change in his tone. She got him this time.</p><p>She looked around the basement, noticing several other pieces that would fit in other parts of her – their home.</p><p>She’d volunteer Gideon to help her fish them out later, but for now she’d start small.</p><p>She turned to make work on the spinning wheel but noticed it had vanished. A moment later, a loud thump above sent a shower of dirt and dust on her.</p><p>“Wouldn’t want you to say something, dearie!” he called from upstairs—her library.</p><p> </p>
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